This One’s For You
For years I have said I would love to have my mother near me. I wanted to give her a sweet final chapter. I wanted her to see her grandchildren on a regular basis, make cookies, travel and just generally host her final act, showing her all the love I have to give. Mom coming to stay so quickly with nothing but a doll suitcase, 2 pair of sneaks, 2 sweaters, 1.5 pairs of my Chrissy doll shoes and, oddly, the panties from her trousseau in 1957, felt more like a bomb than a blessing. Why, in everything from her road trip across the nation with my brother, drinking Irish coffee at road side diners at night, the panties strike me as the odd thing, who knows….. Anyway I have written about Mom before. Her love story with Dad was grand and I would say so was her grief but honestly I know he is here and so does she. They talk at night and she tells him how much she loves him. I don’t know all the details because they appear to whisper amongst themselves.
Mom has late stage Alzheimers and now she is in a new environment. The first few days I believe I slept 5 hours in 5 days and I am reminded of putting my son Harry to bed when he was a young toddler. Eventually the one who learns is you. The difference is that when you have a toddler you can discipline them and they learn, with an 86 year old with a sieve like memory it would be pointless. You just walk them back to bed and back and back the 17 times until you have tired yourself out and go to bed alongside them.
In the few days she has been here my patience has been tried and I have found the beauty in keeping my mouth shut. Don’t argue back or take anything personally. Bath time is especially challenging. Apparently that is when I am most out to get her. But eventually she gets in and once the warm water hits… she calms down. Lovely friends have reminded me that everything has a reason and offer help. Mostly I have asked for a nap and someone to walk the dogs but I could use pizza and a glass of wine.
Lately I have been so caught up with work and personal identity. I have felt the strong lie of “not good enough” roaring through and paralyzing my ability to move forward. Any person who comes to the place where circumstances allow you to completely write your own life's second book must feel this at first. It doesn’t happen for everyone. I am 25 again and anything is possible. With that as my truth I realize that the final chapter of my life’s first book is the end of being a daughter and the beginning of my second book is the memory of being one.
This morning as I lit the candle I heard a voice. This is for YOU. This is a gift for YOU. She is here to fulfill your dream of generational cookie making and love. Florence Makkoo doesn’t need to be here anymore. She is here only for you, doll suitcase and all. The love is hers to give. Hell, she even brought your favorite doll’s shoes. Granted this doesn’t look like it does in my imagination but things seldom do. Maybe thats good. Realizing that my time with Mom is short, I do feel a bit like we better get out there and make the most of it. So I think we will go be 25 together. Who makes the rules of our aging anyway? She wants to talk about boys and sex and kissing. She wants to talk about going dancing and wearing pretty dresses she made that afternoon. She sees a picture of Dad on the mantle and comments at what a hunk that guy in the photo is.
At first I did not want to take her out. I thought it would be too much. The opposite is true. She is engaging, sassy, flirty and very social. Tonight we are going for Italian food at a hip little spot in town. Its the place you run into everyone and engage in all kinds of conversations if you sit at the bar. We are definitely sitting at the bar…..stay tuned.
Quote of the evening……. “Ooooooooh that is strong………I think I will have another sip!” - Florence on a small pour of Riesling